


Whack it 'Till it Explodes

by FernDavant



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Pinatas, Sex, The Doctor is an alien, but not in a horrifying way, in a questionably sane way, the world's first penisiata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7603510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FernDavant/pseuds/FernDavant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor’s penis...is a piñata. What a twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whack it 'Till it Explodes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [levendis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/levendis/gifts).



> This is all whifferdill/levendis' fault. Also, all facts about piñatas are accurate and well-researched. Seriously.

Clara leaned back on her haunches, in between the Doctor's spread legs, momentarily dumbfounded by his, well...she hesitated to call it a penis.

"I asked," Clara began slowly, "I very specifically asked whether or not you had anything I hadn't seen before. This qualifies, for the record."

"Don't be silly," the Doctor said with a hand wave. "You've surely seen one of these before."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, gestured expansively at his roughly phallic, rather brightly colored reproductive organ, like this was a game of Pictionary, and Clara was supposed to guess what the hell this abstract _thing_ was.

Clara stared blankly at him.

"It's a piñata," the Doctor grinned, preening.

"I haven't been to Mexico--which, by the way, I want to, you just keep _missing_ —but that is _not_ a piñata."

"Clara," the Doctor chided in a tone of voice that seemed to say I-think-I-know-what-my-own-cock-is, "I think I know what my own cock is."

Clara punched him hard in his jovial junk. The Doctor squawked. His cock made a hollow echoing sound.

"What was that for?" the Doctor asked, baffled and sounding betrayed. He was still hard though, although Clara's knuckles seemed to indicate his shaft was some manner of clay pottery, so maybe he was always hard. And hollow. Oh, Christ.

"You said it was a piñata! And I panicked and whacked it!"

"Look, I don't know what you're into, but please refrain from punching my genitals until we at least have some negotiations—“

"It's not got crepe paper," Clara interrupted. "And it's not shaped like, like, I don't know. A horse or Elmo or something."

"I think it's beautiful," the Doctor protested sadly, grabbing his party prick and manipulating it, showing it off. "It's got all manner of brightly colored flower patterns and there's a cool dragon-looking thing on the side nearest my right thigh, but I'm sorry you don't like it. I've had better. One of my regenerations had flames on it and a unicorn."

"Your penis is wonderful," Clara said dismissively, frustrated with how many times she had had a variation on this conversation. Well, not quite _this_ conversation exactly, not with the eccentricities of this conversation _at all_ , but she had definitely found herself reassuring more than one guy about how suitable his dick was before. This was ridiculous: women never went fishing for aesthetic ratings of their genitals, and what the hell was _wrong_ with the galaxy's male population? There was a thought. Maybe she'd become too gay for this exchange and wake up from this nightmare. "It just doesn't look like a piñata to me."

"I mean, it's the basis for a traditional Chinese piñata. The Spanish and the Meso-Americans sort of remixed it, but the principle is the same," the Doctor explained, using the same tone he always did when he thought he was being very clever and sharing with her the vast knowledge he had accumulated throughout his universal travels. The knowledge. About his decoration dick.

"Are you... _proud_ of this?" Clara asked, baffled.

"Wouldn't you be proud if an alien culture based a ritual on your body?"

Clara reflected. "Yeah, probably. Hold on a minute: did you say the principle was the same?"

"Oh, yeah!" the Doctor grinned eagerly. "I forgot to show you the best part."

Clara was deeply concerned with what the Doctor thought was the 'best part' of his penis-iata, but she still found herself watching with mounting horror as her pet alien hummed to himself while jacking off his party-game-cum-reproductive-organ.

Heh. Cum.

Clara had become distracted by trying to figure out what she had done wrong in her life to deserve all of this—probably not gone to church enough, judging by her sudden, fervent desire to go to church—when, with a grunt and a noise that sounded suspiciously and uncomfortably like one of those party favor horns people blew at New Year, the Doctor abruptly ejaculated a great number of multi-colored sweets.

He'd caught most of them in the hand that hadn't been tugging on his treat todger, although some of them escaped onto his naked chest, one landing in his belly button. Unconcerned, the Doctor popped a few sweets into his gob.

"Ta da," he said, words muffled around his full mouth.

Clara stared at him blankly for a moment before gathering her courage and what she hoped was a healthy and appropriate sense of sexual exploration for a woman of her age, and plucked one of the cum-candies from the Doctor's belly button.

She examined it carefully. It looked like a jelly baby. It smelled like a jelly baby. And when she finally risked popping it into her mouth, it tasted like a jelly baby. In lieu of more rigorous scientific methods, Clara felt fairly certain that the Doctor had just jizzed jelly babies.

"Good, hey?" the Doctor asked. "I can take sweet requests if you'd like, would just have to change my diet a bit. River always liked Smarties. These are my favorite, though, so I tend to default to them."

"Wait a minute," Clara said, swiping a few of the sweets from the Doctor's hand and popping some into her mouth, despite her better judgment. "You're always eating these."

"Yep," the Doctor said merrily.

Clara paused, dropping the remaining sweets she had nicked, her mind working slowly to a terrifying conclusion. "Just how many times a day are you cranking candies out of your cock?"

"Erm," the Doctor hesitated. "Oh, I don't know. Never, er, counted. Completely unrelated question: how many times on average would you say an adult human male masturbates over the course of a standard Earth day?"

Clara buried her face in her hands, groaning.

"I know what you're thinking," the Doctor said, awkwardly petting Clara on the arm in a fashion he hoped was reassuring.

"No, you really don't."

"But, I've done this before. I'm really good at pulling out, plus I've got special condoms as backup."

"Uh-huh," Clara said faintly.

"But I totally understand if you don't want to have sex with me."

Clara grit her teeth and made a decision. This was just a challenge. She never backed down from a challenge.

"I am going to fuck your party favor pecker off," Clara said very seriously.

The Doctor quailed a bit, slightly intimidated by the ferocity with which Clara had made that statement. "It's, erm, it's not a party favor—“

"Shut up," Clara said. "And I like Kit-Kats."

"I can do that," the Doctor yelped as Clara pounced on him.


End file.
